Chapter 10
Clara
My textbook for my first summer class was spread before me on the patio table, but my mind was spiraling far, far away. Back to Paulo’s estate. To Zee’s car. To that kiss that he’d left branded on my lips.
I could still feel him a week later. I could feel the way his hands gripped me so tight, I thought he’d left a permanent mark. The temperature between us was so hot, I swore my skin melted right off my face.
I loved him. And I knew he loved me. He told me all the time.
But not like that.
Each time those words ran through my head, I wanted to cry. It’d taken everything I had to hold it together while he sat beside me in the car on the ride home.
I couldn’t believe him.
I couldn’t.
Because believing him would mean an end to me, to every single dream I’d ever had.
I loved him.
And I was going to show him he loved me too.
“What are you doing out here?”
Pulling myself back from my little fantasy, I turned my attention to my mother.
She was impeccably dressed, as usual. Her perfect blonde hair pulled up in a perfect updo.
Her makeup was so precise, sometimes I wondered if she’d had it tattooed in place.
The only thing about her that didn’t match the polished, flawless persona she always put forward was the scowl that rippled across her otherwise beautiful face.
The scowl was directed at me, and likely a result of my newly dyed hair.
“I’m studying,” I told her, flashing her a smile that was as fake as the lie ready to spill across my lips.
“Again?” She huffed out a breath. “I swear, Clara, that’s all you ever do. Why aren’t you out spending time with your friends? The semester hasn’t even started yet.”
Another admonishment for the daughter who could do nothing right.
As if she didn’t expect that much and more out of me. Perfect grades, perfect looks, perfect friends.
I stuffed it down into the dark recesses of my mind, along with every other reproach she’d ever given me.
“I was bored, so I thought I’d work ahead. Besides, I’m going out with Chloe and Sadie tonight.”
At that, she brightened. “Oh good. I haven’t seen those two in so long. I’m glad to hear you’re not ruining your friendship over this”—she waved her hand in the direction of my textbook—“school… nonsense.”
Another thing I couldn’t get right.
“What are you three planning on doing?” Suspicion laced her tone.
My smile dropped and I lowered my gaze. “We’re going out to dinner, then having a sleepover at Sadie’s.” My mother put a hand on her hip, and when I looked up at her arched brow, I offered, “Chloe’s bringing a bottle of Pinot.”
As if she expected as much, she gave a slight nod, letting her perfect brow fall back into place. “Just don’t drink too much. No one wants a sloppy drunk.”
“Yes, mother.” She liked me this way—perfectly demure, doing exactly as expected. Being with preapproved friends, confessing to a minor transgression that people my age did all the time.
Too bad it was all a lie.
She gave me a little smile—because twenty-five years and two children later, Daphne Vinci still didn’t appreciate being reminded that she’d pushed two small watermelons out of her vagina—and took a step toward the door. “Your father and I are going out.”
“Have a good time.”
She studied me for a moment, then decided whatever she saw was enough.
Enough of whatever bit of perfection she expected from me.
Then, without another word, she turned on her heels and walked away.
I gave her ten minutes before I gathered up my textbook and scurried back to my bedroom.
Setting it down on the stack on the corner of my desk, I twisted it, lining the corners up perfectly with the one beneath it.
I opened it, closed it, opened it, closed it, opened it…
until it finally felt right. Until my brain told me that not doing it was okay.
Then, stripping out of my clothes, I hopped in the shower and rinsed off, scrubbing my skin until the water ran cold, and I was sure I’d probably be clean for a week.
If only it worked that way.
If only I didn’t have to do this every night.
I needed my pills for that. I needed them to feel normal. To not make my life into a million little rituals that kept me from doing anything else. I needed them.
Needed them.
Needed, needed, needed…
Drying my hair to my mother’s high standards took more time than I cared to admit.
It wouldn’t be this way with the pills. They kept me from the constant rituals that wouldn’t let up.
When I was finally dried and moisturized, I threw on one of the button-ups I’d stolen from Zee’s and started on my makeup.
Only to apply too much and have to take it all off so I could start all over again.
Finally, with a steady hand, I traced the edge of my upper lip with my new lipstick.
I filled it in, using quick, short strokes, until my entire lip was coated, stained a red so dark it was nearly black.
Then I started on the bottom, careful not to mess up, not to smear the stain all over my face. I had to get this perfect.
I had to be perfect.
There was no other choice.
When my lips were done, I lifted my gaze, staring into the ordinary brown eyes that I hated more than just about everything else about me.
Even with the thick, false lashes, the heavy coat of black mascara, the perfectly winged liner, and the dazzling eyeshadow I could have spent an hour on, my eyes would never look anything more than ordinary.
Why couldn’t I have been born with eyes like my mother and brother? Blue eyes would give me that je ne sais quoi I always wished I could have. Even my father’s brown eyes held something mine didn’t. I was just… me.
Clara Vinci.
The girl who… couldn’t.
The girl Zeno didn’t love like that.
Something scratched at my mind. Like there was a creature inside my head, trying to get out. Trying to remind me of something.
Something I missed.
Something I didn’t do.
I let my gaze travel my reflection. Across my face, down my neck to where my collarbone jutted out. I tapped it five times.
Just like Mom’s. It was just like Mom’s. Yet… it wasn’t.
Neither were my breasts, so small and simple compared to hers. Or my waist. The jutting hip bones that were too sharp to be considered beautiful. My thighs, too thick. My ass, too round. Even my feet, shoved in the lacy stockings that rose up to cover my thighs, were too big.
Too different.
Too… not like her.
Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes, and I lifted them toward the ceiling, blinking rapidly to make them go away. I couldn’t let them fall, couldn’t let them ruin the makeup I’d tried so hard, spent so much time, trying to perfect.
Perfect.
Not perfect.
I could never be perfect.
I could never be them.
Rising from my vanity chair, I went from one mirror to the other.
The full-length, three-panel mirror that stood in the corner by my closet, showed me each and every one of my flaws.
The thin, yet thick, hair that couldn’t hold a curl or a color, making the hot pink I’d dyed it just last night look pale and flat as the style went limp.
I pushed my hands into it, giving it volume for all of ten seconds before it came tumbling down to look even flatter than before.
I was cursed.
Cursed with a mind that couldn’t focus. A body that couldn’t perform. A life that just… couldn’t.
That scratching prevailed. Tugging at my consciousness until it was my hand scratching, my fingernails digging into my chest. It was only the bite of pain that brought me out of it, that made me realize the streak of red that was now slashed across my chest.
Perfect.
Just perfect.
This was why I didn't dress until last. I’d have to wear something different than what I’d planned to go to the club tonight. Rather than the black dress with the plunging neckline, I’d have to wear something that wouldn’t show the jagged cut my nail had left across my chest.
A knock sounded at my door, and I jumped. Luckily, only a trace of blood touched Zee’s shirt. With one last glance at my reflection, I rushed to the door, sure it was only our housekeeper, coming to take any used dishes away.
The angry creature in my head scratched harder, distracting me as my hand fell hard on the handle and I yanked open the door. I’d barely gotten the smile to cross my lips before it was falling straight off again, as I was yanked out the doorway and slammed face first into the wall.
“Fuck, kitten.” Hot breath swept over my neck as hands groped and squeezed and tugged. I tried to push off the wall, tried to wriggle free, only for a hand to slip between me and that safety, plunging straight into my lace panties before they were shoved right up inside of me.
I squealed and bucked, and the man behind me laughed and pressed, hurting me as he pushed and fucked and…
And I couldn’t.
Couldn’t get away.
Couldn’t stop him.
Couldn’t stop the pained cry that ripped through my throat and burst out into the empty hallway.
“You wear this for me, kitten? Wanna get fucked by a real man? Wanna get—”
“Jayden!” My brother’s voice snapped, and those hands were torn free, ripping my panties while I was tossed to the ground. “The fuck is wrong with you?”
I peeked up through the well of tears splashing down my face, only to find Stephano, my perfect, blue-eyed, brown-haired brother, glaring down at me. He seethed, a sneer across his lips and murder in his eyes, before he lifted his chin, schooled his face, and turned back to his friend.
“Told you not to touch her.” Stephano dragged his gaze down my body, from the limp pink hair to where my button-up shirt was ripped at my chest, to the panties dangling half off my hip. He sneered again. “You're likely to catch something if you do.”
Jayden scoffed, the man licking his lips like he was tempted to try regardless of my brother’s warning. “Right.” He turned away, but not before making a show of sucking the wetness—my wetness—from his fingertips before tromping his way down the long hall to my brother’s wing.
Stephano rolled his words around in his mouth like they were bitter, pungent things. “The hell do you think you’re doing coming out in the hall dressed like that?”
On a sob, I shook my head. “I was just getting ready. Sadie and I are going out—”
“Not looking like that, you aren’t.”
“I’m not even dressed yet! We’re going to the club!”
He shook his head at me, the sneer turning to a vicious scowl. “You’re not welcome there, brat.” He turned on his heel, then paused, looking back over his shoulder. “And stay the fuck away from my friends.”
Another sob hiccupped through me as he walked away. As he once again took somebody else’s side.
That was my brother.
That was my life.
I’d never be good enough.
Climbing to my feet, I limped back into my room, locking the door behind me before I tumbled toward my bed.
Pulling the baggie full of pills Jayden had shoved inside of me out, I looked it over through tear-filled eyes.
Then I snatched the little rain cloud pillow from its spot near my headboard and curled around it before I let myself cry.
I’d never be perfect.
I’d never be right.
But here, curled around my cloud, I could at least live in my dream.
Somewhere out there, there was a man who didn’t treat me like I was nothing. He didn’t treat me like everyone else did.
I was in love with him, I always had been, and I always would be.
I just needed to prove it to him.
To show him that he loved me too.
And I’d do it, even if it was the last thing I ever did.